Sun, wilderness

Who I am is not important.

I am insignificant, and unknown by most people – even to myself.

I could fill this place with a lot of text about my personal life, but read my poems and esoteric texts, for they tell about me – all of my truths and all of my secrets, even the dark ones.

I write, because words are capable of changing reality. The world is ephemeral, and I have nothing to hold on to except for my texts. Soon I will be dead, and eternally forgotten by all. I do not know my future: my happiest moment might have passed already.

I cannot hold on to other people, for they constantly change. My material possessions slowly decay, and any happiness I have is short lived. But when I write, I can change my world.

Via words it is possible for us to catch a hold on our destiny, and grab it and force it to become our possession. It is possible for us to own our destiny, for a short moment, and alter it according to our will.

It is the only way to become as though we were godlike. Some works of art are more real than humanity itself. Yet, even art is always decaying, always changing, always being annihilated by time and space.

I am radical by nature, for the most beautiful thing we have, is our intense desire for life and for meaning, and that desire must always be exceedingly radical, or it is not truly real.

Real or authentic experiences are not necessarily good or pleasant, but they are always meaningful. Life is not a ride in an amusement park or a holiday in Spain. Life contains all kinds of unpleasantness and dangers, but precisely there, in the pain, is it possible for our most meaningful experiences to be crafted. In our most wicked moments lies our most decisive or most meaningful experiences. Triviality must go out the window.

I have gone through a lot of pain, and will continue to do this throughout my life, and so will you.

I consider myself a lonely soul, a dark angel, and I live far away from civilization and any major cities, for I have rarely met another person I truly liked and who truly liked me, and nature is a constant source of beauty. Yet, there’s a strength and joy in my loneliness which I cannot find otherwise. I am in love with this grandiose show that the universe temporarily has brought forth, and which takes place in front of my senses and mind.

I admire courage and strength which has been tried under hard conditions, being intoxicated in the soul, wilderness and forests and beaches where no humans are to be found, art which speaks to my soul, love, religion, mystical states of consciousness and the Phoenix’s ability to rebirth itself.

I hate people who are negative, bondage and restrictions, people who steal away my time and to waste time at the trivial, cities, noise and hip-hop.

My poems are all in danish, but my esoteric writings are mostly in english. Welcome.

Click here to come to the poems

Click here to come to the videos

Click here to come to the esoteric texts

Emil Hjort

Emil Hjort

I have always been an outcast and a rat. Society has denied me a proper place since I was a child. I have a crazy and aggressive look in my eyes, and I regularly go to the market place in order to proclaim the end of the world. I live far out in the wilderness, where my only neighbors are the crows, foxes and wolves. My clothing's are ragged, I go barefooted and have never owned a mastercard. I am not respectable and I have no respect. I am only awake at night, and at midnight I dance with the death at the churchyard. But those who have left society have always been always to clearly see it for what it is: A shame, a downfall and a ruin, something which awakens the wrath of the gods. Arrogance, hubris and a cruelty. Something which will soon be over, and when the scene finally collapses under its own weight, all of creation will be able to freely breath again.

Email: emilhjortrosenkrantz(snabela)